FernI don’t mean to leave my room. That’s the lie I tell myself as Justin leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, with a crooked smile on his face like he’s already won.“Come on,” he says. “One night.”“I don’t play,” I reply, tugging the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Anything.”“That’s perfect,” he says. “Neither did half the table the first time.”I eye him suspiciously. “I don’t play poker.”He grins. “There is a first time for everything.”I blink. “Absolutely not.”Justin laughs. “That was faster than I expected.”“I don’t have money,” I add, as if that seals it.He waves a hand. “I’ll cover you.”“That makes it worse,” I groan.“Only if you lose.”I study his face. He’s sincere, annoyingly so, and there’s no pity there, just a genuine desire to pull me out of my head and into something normal. Something fun.The silence stretches.“One night,” he says again, softer. “No pressure. If you hate it, I’ll walk you back myself.”I exhale. I don’t want to say yes, but I
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